YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!

Brian and I went on an adventure of epic proportions this morning. If we had only known what the day would bring, we certainly would have been more prepared. As with any run-of-the-mill grand adventure (confession: we ran lotsa errands in a short time span and had fun together all morning!),  the ultimate goal was to return home, safe and sound. Well! Imagine OUR surprise when we tried to pull onto our street and Gandelf the Neon Yellow was standing at our intersection.  Department Of Highways-issued vest billowing in the breeze, Staff of Stop/Slow in hand, waving us away.  Silently informing us that, indeed,  we could " not pass.'"

"But we LIVE there!" we protested.

Gandelf shrugged and waved us on by. The gruff old fellow then gazed off into the sky, a distant and sad look on his weathered  face. I'm guessing he was contemplating how to defeat the Orcs in the upcoming apocalyptic battle. That, or he was really hungry and daydreaming about his lunch.

Luckily,  there is another way onto our street, so we made the harrowing loop thru a neighborhood of tightly knit houses and giant SUVs, Middle Appalachia's version of The Misty Mountains.  Suddenly, a man appeared. A short, round man with a beard and flattened nose. OH MY LORD OF THE RINGS, IT WAS REDNECK GIMLI!! He was, of course wearing camo and instead of a battle axe, he was wielding a...chicken wing?!

"Hey" said Gimli, like he and Brian and I hang out every day.

"Hey." I said from the passenger seat of our car."Uh, yeah. we need to get to our house. Up there."

"Where is it?" Gimli asked, gnawing on that chicken wing like it was lembas bread.

"Uhhhh on ROSALIND?" Brian was a little taken aback, I believe. Poor thing. City Boy is still  kinda new to the ways of  Middle Appalachia.  When we're hungry, we eat.  Job duties or customer service be damned. Kinda like Hobbits!

Smacking his bulbous lips and lickin off some undoubtedly yummy chicken fat with a giant, floppy tongue, Gimli said, "Kay." The Dwarves of Middle Appalachia are a simple people. Not much for words and fancy talkin. He turned his back to us for a second or two and spoke into a walkie-talkie completely ensconced in duct tape. Then, tossing the cleanly picked chicken wing over his shoulder and into the roadside brushn the aimiable Dwarf granted us access to the previously forbidden destination of home. "Y'all g'won 'N" Redneck Gimli said in the native tongue of his region. Translation: either, "You all go on in."  or, alternatively, "You all go on then." Either is acceptable.

Cautiously, Brian and I found our way home, fighting off bits of foul-smelling hot tar, lava and dangerously sharp rocks and steep drop offs, not unlike Frodo and Sam's quest to return The Ring to Mordor.

I was able to make it back OUT to the office party but upon coming back Rosalind was COMPLETELY blocked by heaving giant beasts spewing bile and noxious gasses. Once again, Gandelf the Neon Yellow waved his Staff of Stop/Slow and  entrance  was denied.

I made the treacherous path thru the Misty Mountains all alone and, to my relief, Redneck Gimli was no where to be seen on the other side. Ignoring the ominous Road Closed signed I clawed and scraped and forged my way thru until I was back on Rosalind Road.

There was no magical ring for me to return. Not in this journey. Oh no,  I had something much, much more important and coveted in my hands.
I had The King's lunch of Thanksgiving Leftovers to deliver. :)